If you're looking for some religious stuff to do, while still being totally lost, here's a little starter list with some neat ideas.

And yes, don't worry:  If you're determined to avoid God, and don't want to give Him what He's after, you can still do all this stuff.  In fact, doing this stuff has been known to HELP some to avoid the dread and risk and messiness of really knowing God. You can do it all without giving Him your heart.

None of these things will save you.  Plus, they'll keep you busy!  (By the way, FunFact: I totally did the accompanying graphic by myself.  I avoid possible copyright issues in this manner. Thanks!)

----------

Be a scripture memorizer

Go to church camp

Teach Sunday School

Tithe

Be a brilliant theologian

Lead the Cookies-for-Newcomers Ministry

Think you're one of the Elect

Listen to Christian radio

Work in Christian radio

Lead "powerful worship"

Preach the Word for an hour-and-a-half every Sunday

Be a missionary in Africa

Host a small group from your church

Stand for Justice and Peace

Vote pro-life

Go to seminary

Feel guilty every day

Pray for the President

Have a brilliant, theologically astute understanding of Grace

Talk to people about Christ

Say the "sinner's prayer" 

Speak in tongues

Wear a WWJD? bracelet

Start an award-winning ministry to people with AIDS

Be an elder in your church

Argue with your teacher about evolution

Lead family devotions

Keep trying not to sin

Argue theology on your blog

Argue theology on this blog

"Take a stand" for prayer in school

Start a hip, organic church

Use Christian-y cusswords, instead of the real darn thing

"Take" or "receive" communion every week, month, quarter, or year, without fail

Come forward at church camp

"Take a stand" for Truth and combat the lies of Rob Bell

Place a sticker of a fish, preferably eating a Darwin fish, on your car

Pray two hours a day

Confidently trace your church's lineage back to Peter

Confidently trace your church's lineage back to Calvin

Read Max Lucado

Actually want to read Max Lucado

Read the Bible every day

Argue that drinking alcohol would ruin your "witness"

Say "under God" really loud while you pledge your allegiance to a flag

Rue those new choruses that lack deep theology

Be transparent about your shortcomings on your own radio show and your blog

Personally baptize people

Personally lead people in singing Chris Tomlin songs

Personally baptize Chris Tomlin

Sponsor a child through Compassion International 

Steer clear of R-rated movies

Homeschool your children

Mail only REAL Christmas cards, ones with pictures of Jesus and scripture

Be a member of the Tea Party

Be amember of Sojourners and consider yourself enlightened beyond the Tea Party

Be a "prophetic voice"

Be a counselor at a Graham crusade

MAKE YOUR OWN AWESOME GRAPHICS FOR YOUR BLOG!!!!

Wear a Christian shirt that looks kinda like a known-product T-shirt, but says a Christian-y thing on it

Organize VBS

Wear Tebow jersey to Raiders game

Weep openly at small group

Work at Focus on the Family

Tsk tsk Harry Potter

Have a model marriage

Know who Priscilla and Aquilla are

Know who DeGarmo and Key are

Watch, repeatedly, "Fireproof"

Force your kids to watch, repeatedly, "Fireproof"

Go to confession

Eschew the banalities of commercial Christian culture and listen to Sufjan Stevens

Be a key member of a church that offers solid, Biblical teaching -- none of that namby-pamby stuff

Be a pastor who offers solid, Biblical teaching -- none of that namby-pamby stuff

Listen to Rush Limbaugh

Believe people who listen to Rush Limbaugh lack your insight

Give the neighborhood kids "Cross-Pops" (TM) candy for Halloween, plus a tract

Lead your neighbors to Christ

Be correct about every. single. thing.

"Know", theologically, that this post is correct, but live as if it isn't

 

There's a story about Bach -- or maybe it was Mozart -- and how, even as a little kid, he had to hear resolution.  He was in bed, upstairs, and someone was playing the piano, and that someone got distracted and stopped, just before the last chord.

J.S. -- or W.A.? -- couldn't stand it.  He tromped downstairs, pounded out the resolving chord, and then went back up to bed again, without a word.  He just had to hear it.

We're all like that.  I think about all the stories I've heard, and then all the ones I've lived, and there's the big difference:  We get resolution in the former, but the other just...lay...out there, somewhere, and, much as we pretend, there are no finish lines, no final chords, no official victories, no ends-of-story.  Not yet, anyway. 

I took the yellow bus home from our country school in St. Berniece, Indiana.  One day, I sat with my best friend's brother, Eric.  He was in second grade, I was in third.  We talked and joked about my lunchbox and a puppet I played with.  Then we got off at the bus stop in front of his house.

I stepped to the right.  But Eric ran alongside the bus, slipped, and fell under the wheel. 

Two weeks later, my mom suggested I go over to my friend's house, to visit him and his little sister.  She told me they probably hadn't had any visitors since Eric was killed, and may be lonely.  So I got on my bike.

Mark, my friend, and his little sister met me at the door, excited to see me -- or anyone, for that matter, I gathered.  We laughed and played with a top on their hardwood floor.  It was one of those that spins and makes noise and lights.  I could see their mom in the back room, smoking a cigarette.  Staring at me.

We played for an hour, until she came in the room, and started screaming at me.  She said something about how all I was doing was reminding them of what happened to Eric, and I should get out, like, now.  Her kids were stunned, and started crying, and so did I, and I ran out the door and got on my bike bawling with guilt. 

I never went back.  And we moved away.  I don't know what happened to them.  When I think about that day -- this is almost thirty years ago -- I still get a knot in my stomach.  There's no ending to the story.  So it's a story I've almost never told.

Most examples aren't this painful, but almost all the "great stories" of my life are this way.  When I speak to people, try to motivate them, try to teach them, I pull a bit of a sleight-of-hand, presenting stories that are edited just-so.  They're not "untrue", they're just dishonest, in a pedestrian way, I suppose, presenting real-life stories like Aesop's Fables, with certain resolution, as though the story were over. 

(Maybe  -- I don't know, I'm musing here -- this is a reason why Jesus's stories aren't specific "victory" testimonies, they're metaphors of the Kingdom.  Maybe he didn't want a specific "Look-at-what-happened" story to ultimately get mis-used, or give the wrong impression.)

I tell about a smashing, eye-opening missions trip for some high schoolers, but I don't include the boring stories, or the stories where some kids just really weren't impacted, how that one inspiring kid wound up getting some girl pregnant two months later. 

I tell -- and hear --  "and then he became a believer!"-type stories, but don't include, " -- and yeah, okay, he's still battling addictions."

I read "look what our church is doing" accounts in newsletters, but don't hear the invariably messy follow-ups.  We get the "victory" stories over sin and depravity, but no one publishes books called, Wups, I'm Totally Messed Again.  Yet, that's where the stories of my actual life are.  We don't like our stories open-ended.  So we clean up our stories, and act like they're finished.

They're not.

I used to be a youth minister, and the conventions would feature one impressive guy after another, with remarkable stories about what happened in their youth groups.  It was really amazing!  Why was my youth group kind of a mess?  Why wasn't I inspiring anyone like that?  It was impressive!...until I realized I could pick and choose stories, make believe they were final, and, presto -- I'm awesome. 

And that inspiring day when Big Joe the Football Lineman cried and prayed?  Well, that was the end of the story!  But in reality, it wasn't.

We like resolution.  But we don't live in resolution-time.  Forgive me for ever giving the impression otherwise, that I believe myself fully resolved, fully arrived, somehow finished.  The story isn't over.

  
Not everything makes sense, not everything gets explained, not every story is inspiring and ready for Tony Campolo to tell it.  Talk about "inconvenient truth":  We're living in the in-between. 

I think about Eric, his mom, or a thousand other people I've known, and I feel like I'm lying upstairs, and someone just left the piano bench, right before the C chord.  

I'd walk down and play it, if I could.

I hope you've heard Shaun Groves. 

I don't mean that you've heard his music, though it's outstanding, and has landed him on the cover of the old CCM Magazine and blah blah blah. Or even his incredible new, indie stuff, from "Third World Symphony."  When I say I hope you've heard him, I mean, I hope you've HEARD Shaun Groves.  Really heard him. 

What he has to say, particularly with regard to God's heart for the poor, the marginalized, the weak, and the vulnerable, is wonderful news: for them, and for us.  As Shaun is fond of saying, we are not merely saved "from", we are saved "for", and that's to do the work of the Kingdom.  We GET to do this.  It's way more exciting than a teaching.  It's a mission.

So I hope you've heard Shaun, loud and clear, even if you didn't know he was a big-shot Christian pop star-feller.  Or is.  I don't know, or care.  I'm not sure he does, either. 

He asked some blogger-types to host a "blog-tour" with the release of "Third World Symphony", and to write about a bit of our own engagement with the "third world", and how we saw Jesus at work.  I've written much about this theme, over time, and as I say, what I've seen in developing nations hasn't just changed my mind on things, or how we spend our money, or my mindset on this or that.  It's done much more. 

It's helped me fall in love with God.

---------

Where God Lives

WRITTEN FROM NAIROBI, KENYA, 2008

(First, before today's blog entry, let me note that I'm typing to the strains of a tuxedo-clad young Kenyan on the piano in our hotel.  I'm sitting in the lobby, and he's regally playing -- of course -- "You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille", by Kenny Rogers.  Many things don't translate cross-culturally, but -- make no mistake -- Kenny translates.  Kenny crosses all boundaries)
 
Susan leaned over, from her seat in the van.
 
"Notice where the children are playing -- look out the left window," she said.  Susan knows this area well, she's worked for Compassion for years.
 
They were playing next to a pile of trash that's well over their heads, and seems to stretch for miles.  The stench hit us immediately.
 
"They put all these schools next to the dump.  All of Nairobi dumps its trash here," she said.  Children of Dandora -- another sprawling, Where-the-Streets-Have-No-Name-type slum -- scavenge through the refuse, looking for food, or something to sell.  Anything.
 
We stopped, and walked in a Dandora Baptist Church, where children at a Compassion project were singing.  Their voices bounced off the walls, singing praises to God.  Then we met about dozen people in the church who are suffering from AIDS.  The whole community is suffering -- every family, one way or the other -- from AIDS. 
 
A young man -- they called him "Timothy" -- stood up to introduce himself to us.
 
We could look out the windows to the right and left as he spoke, and see children in the filth.  We could see dozens of vultures flying directly overhead, over the trash, over the dirt, over the disease-riddled, dark cardboard homes.  Welcome to Dandora.
 
"Welcome to Dandora, where God lives."
 
Where God lives?
 
Circling vultures.  Men, women and children crying out with disease, children searching through stinking trash for anything...where God lives.
 
Timothy has lived his whole life here.  Someone sponsored him through Compassion International, when he was four.  He's now in his twenties.  He's now has a degree in Computer Science.  He now teaches kids in the program about computers.
 
He knows where God lives.  He knows God does not run away from suffering.  He moves closer.  Dandora is suffering, and God gets His mail here.
 
He also teaches the children -- who are where he once was --about the love of God.
 
"I understand the love of God.  I understand how a God, whom I have not seen, can love me.  This is because someone, whom I have not seen, loved me enough to sponsor me.  I understand the love of God."
 
Where God lives.